


Be Still My Beating Heart

by Fandom_Addict88



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Human/Vampire Relationship, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-19 15:48:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22846753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandom_Addict88/pseuds/Fandom_Addict88
Summary: An unspecified job in a secluded location for a reclusive gentleman, what could possibly be dangerous about that?
Relationships: Qrow Branwen/Clover Ebi
Comments: 16
Kudos: 70





	Be Still My Beating Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://sorgrcn.tumblr.com/post/190883196814/hm-he-didnt-come-with-the-mansion) beautiful artwork by the talented [Sorgrcn](https://sorgrcn.tumblr.com/)!

**Chapter One**

Rain seeped under his collar as he ran to find shelter. It dripped off his cold nose and stung his cheeks as the wind whipped it around him. His suitcase was nearly torn from his hand as a particularly strong gust caught it. Splashing through yet another puddle in already drenched shoes, he finally found relief under a large oak tree at the side of the path. He ducked quickly as a handful of twigs snapped above his head, and he grumbled under his breath. “Just my luck,” Qrow Branwen huffed as he put the suitcase down at his feet. 

The journey to Atlas Manor hadn’t started well and it didn’t seem likely to be ending brilliantly anytime soon. He was lost again, of course. He reached into a pocket of his tatty coat, pulled out a brown hipflask and quickly took a sip. The warm liquid slipped down his throat and gave him a small burst of heat. Shuddering, he replaced it and fetched a crumpled piece of paper from his other pocket. Qrow opened it to find that the rain had smudged the ink in places. The most important part was still legible though and he gave thanks for small mercies. The map was spartan with few details on, and Qrow wasn’t sure if he should have turned left several roads ago, or did he need to go right now? He couldn’t remember if he had the map the right way up anymore. He’d had to double back a couple of times when it became clear he’d followed the wrong path, and he hoped he didn’t have to do that again.

Giving a sigh, he looked out from under the canopy and up at the sky. The clouds didn’t look so black at the moment and the wind seemed to have died down temporarily. He looked about himself to try and gain his bearings. Qrow tried to remember how far he’d run to get out of the storm and equate it to the information on his map. A long squiggle on the left of the paper made him think of a river, and he turned to look. The rolling countryside and the noise of the wind and rain in the tree made it impossible to see or hear rushing water. There were no landmarks nearby, nor any cottages to ask for directions that he could see. Running a hand through his sopping black hair, he fixed his eyes on the tree and shoved the map back into his pocket. Was climbing a 40 foot tree in the wind and rain a good idea? He didn’t know, but he sure as hell didn’t want to stay huddled under it in soaking clothes until the storm ended or it got dark. He wanted to be somewhere warm with food and drink. He wanted to be at Atlas Manor.

Atlas Manor, yet another new start. Gripping a low branch, he pulled himself up and started to climb. As Qrow carefully made his way upwards trying not to rip holes in his red coat, a feeling of melancholy came over him which had nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with where he was going. Or rather where he’d been. Atlas Manor was another attempt at trying to hold onto a steady life, everything else before had ended in disaster, disappointment or death. Gritting his teeth as he reached for a branch, his red eyes burned at the memories. His sister, his friends, his whole family were gone, or as near as dammit. They had finally rejected him, with his constant drinking and bad luck, and after a series of unfortunate accidents he'd been out of a job yet again. He'd been tramping around the nearby counties aimlessly, doing odd work here and there, but he hoped this new job he’d been accepted for would last longer. “Wishful thinking,” Qrow sighed as he reached a gap in the swaying branches.

He steadied himself by putting an arm around a smaller branch and he reached for the map again before looking down. The path he’d been travelling along lay to his right and stretched back behind him. Looking forwards, he tried to glimpse what he had thought was a river on the map, but ended up being a partially ruined wall stretching as far in front of him as he could see. Another glance at the path showed him that although it carried on straight, there was a small cutting to the left not much further ahead which sunk down to meet the crumbling wall. Qrow breathed a sigh of relief which ended in a splutter as a wet leaf flew straight into his face. The wind blew with a sudden strong gust and the whole tree swayed, Qrow hanging on for dear life. Rain and leaves pelted his face again and he decided that maybe it was time to get down now.

As he slowly climbed back to solid ground, he snagged his leg on a broken branch and gave a sharp hiss. He looked down to see red spreading into his grey trousers from a nasty cut on his right leg. He made a growl of annoyance and gingerly carried on to the ground, giving his coat a good shake to get rid of the browning leaves when he was safe. He moved to his suitcase and opened it to reach for something to tie around his injured leg. Qrow wasn’t going to stop now, not when he was so close to shelter, he hoped anyway. He squashed the suitcase back together and clicked the locks, only for it to burst open as soon as he pulled at the handle. Clothes flew out onto the path and into muddy puddles and Qrow shouted out a curse. “Useless piece of…” he snarled as he gathered his belongings up. He stuffed them back into his case, dead leaves and all, not caring that it would make the rest dirty. He’d deal with that when he finally reached the Manor. 

Qrow wrenched his hipflask out again and took a long swig of whiskey. His leg throbbed, his shoes squelched and he’d had enough of this piercing rain and wind. “I need a decent drink,” he said to himself as he picked up his suitcase once more. Making sure he was still heading in the right direction, he started along the path.

Dusk wasn’t far away now and Qrow was feeling weary. He’d started off several hours ago, when the sun was bright in the sky with not a breath of wind. It hadn’t been long before the first grey clouds had blustered in overhead, but he’d been almost half way (or so he’d thought) when the heavens had opened. It hadn’t stopped since and it didn’t look like it was going to stop anytime soon. He might as well carry on, he thought to himself as he trudged along. Qrow didn’t have the motivation to run anymore, the weather having thoroughly dampened his spirits. The wind stole his breath away and the rain carried on incessantly, soaking him to the core. Qrow thought he’d probably end up ill whenever he got there, which would be just typical. 

He came to the side cutting he’d spied earlier and turned down it, following as it dipped towards a section of the dry stone wall that hadn’t collapsed and a tall rusty gate swinging in the wind. It clanged shut as he approached and Qrow fiddled with it, trying to open it once more. The gate proved resistant once closed however, and Qrow had to push his shoulder against it to force it open. Once through, he shut it behind him and leant back, the high wall sheltering him from the wind faintly as he caught his breath. 

He looked ahead of himself to see a narrow track, which steered away from the gate before curving to the right around a large craggy hill. Giving another sigh as he started forward, Qrow let his mind wander. He was curious to what could lie in front. With a name like Atlas Manor he presumed that it would be a large sprawling building, stately, and nestled in vibrant gardens with an elaborate water feature. It was secluded enough, the nearest village was well over two miles further up the road, and although the terrain here was rocky, the landscape in the surrounding area was varied. His mind couldn’t help but conjure up bad scenarios about what he was going to find when he reached his destination, about secluded locations and reclusive old gentlemen who were probably a little bit barmy. 

Qrow followed the curve of the track and came to a standstill. Hidden behind the rise of the hill and sloping countryside, was a large combe, in the centre of which stood a ring of enormous trees. Other ancient trees littered the sides of the valley, dry stone walls crisscrossing between them. He glimpsed light flickering through the swaying branches of tree ring and Qrow realised that Atlas Manor was in the middle. It wasn’t at all what he’d been expecting, he couldn’t see any gardens for a start, just rocks and scrubland. The tip of the roof was just visible poking above trees.

As darkness began to close in around him, Qrow hurried on, trying to make the most of the fading light. He was careful not to stray off the track and into the uneven ground at the sides, he didn’t want a broken ankle to end his journey on. A signpost leaned into his path on the right hand side, just a shadow as the words were lost to the gloom. He made his way past it and through the trees which had formed a canopy above, coming up to the Manor. It was several stories tall and spread a little here and there, but he couldn’t call it sprawling as the trees pressed close in places. Lights were visible in several of the windows and they lit up patches of the ground. A large door was in the centre and Qrow sighed as he pulled at the sizeable clover-shaped knocker, banging it three times.

The door opened slowly after a few moments to reveal an older gentleman framed in light, small and portly with a brown moustache and balding head. The man peered out into the gloom at him. “Yes? And just how may I help you?” he asked, looking Qrow up and down, a suspicious look in his red piggy eyes as he took in the soaked appearance, bloody leg and grubby suitcase. Qrow felt a slight blush creep up to his cheeks and he bristled. Not a great way to start his new job, he thought, and really hoped this wasn’t his new employer. 

“Hello, I’m Qrow Branwen. I’m here for the job of… of...” he trailed off hoarsely. Qrow didn’t actually know what the job was. He’d seen the advertisement in the newspaper as he passed through the area and had responded, but it hadn’t been more than a line or two detailing that someone was needed to assist a reclusive ex-soldier. He’d been drunk at the time and had only applied because he had no other options. He’d never actually expected to get the job, but here he was two days later, soaked to the bone and being glared at by some old bloke who had access to the only real shelter for miles. He wasn't going to turn down work, and he was big enough to take care of himself. “Look, it’s freezing out here, do you mind?” he growled, and made his way forward.

The other men stared at him, but opened the door and allowed Qrow to pass. The door opened into a large hall, dominated by a staircase that swept upwards from the middle of the floor before branching out on the next level. Qrow’s eyebrows rose as he took in the beauty of the room. Engraved mahogany tables were dotted in places against the walls, bedecked with various ornaments, and bright coloured soft furnishings graced the walls and floor. A large crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling above the stairs, full of twinkling lights that reflected onto the landscapes that adorned every available wall space. Each landscape was different, some were of rolling green hills, others held cold frozen glaciers, or even pristine coastal beaches, but they all had a common point. Bright sunlight cast shadows across the calm scenes, or light on waves as the sun kissed the horizon. All were hand painted beautifully and Qrow couldn’t help but think back to the map in the pocket and smiling. How he wished that whomever had painted these amazing pictures had turned their hand to map making. A grandfather clock was striking in the corner of the hall, ringing out seven times in the quiet of the house.

The older gentlemen coughed pointedly behind him as the door was shut, and Qrow brought himself back to the here and now. He suddenly realised he had strayed on to the plush rug in front of him as he’d gazed around, his coat dripping mud and rain. He shuffled back towards the door sheepishly and placed his suitcase down at the side. He turned to look at the man and held out his hand. “Are you Lord Ebi?” Qrow asked, his husky voice sounding quiet in the large hallway. “I’m sorry for the carpet.”

The other man looked at Qrow’s offered hand with a glare, and drew himself to his full height. He was smaller than Qrow, so the effect wasn’t quite the same, but his words let Qrow know exactly what he thought of his apology. “I'm sure you are. My Lord will be down shortly,” he said curtly and with that, he turned sharply on his feet and marched off to a door at the right. “Stay there,” was the parting instruction as he disappeared.

Qrow was left standing to his own devices at the door. He gave a loud sigh as he removed his coat and placed it on top of his suitcase. A small puddle had collected on the stone tiles below his feet, so he moved to the side and peered out of the window there. It was truly night now, but he could still see the trees swaying in the wind from the light streaming through the windows. He shivered as rain lashed against the house and Qrow was glad he had finally made it. He still didn’t know if it had been a good idea to come here. He hadn’t made a very good first impression on the older gentleman, and he hoped that it wouldn’t affect his work too much, whatever that was going to be.

“You must be Mr Branwen,” a clear voice spoke behind him. Qrow jumped, crashing into the table under the window. He scrambled to hold it steady before he turned around, heart beating hard in his chest. Another man was making his way down the stairs, nearly at the bottom already and Qrow started. He’d never even heard him coming. “I am Lord Clover Ebi, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Welcome to Atlas Manor.” The man reached the ground and held out his hand to Qrow.

Qrow stared at him, he couldn’t help it. Lord Clover Ebi wasn’t at all what he had been expecting. He’d been imagining an elderly man, scarred from numerous battles, or injured and needing care, but this man looked younger than him and very healthy. The man was well built and several inches taller than Qrow, his skin was a slightly darker shade, almost sun kissed. He had soft brown hair which flicked up at the front, and his eyes… well… his eyes _glowed_. They were a bright shade of green, like the ocean on a tropical beach and they stared back at Qrow with an intensity he found disconcerting, as though he was being read heart and soul. Dressed all in black, he had a long thick cloak wrapped around broad shoulders and warm boots on his feet. He stood there with a slight smile on his face, hand still outstretched and Qrow came to his senses. He flushed slightly and shook the Lord's hand quickly before wrapping his arms around himself and shivering again.

“Umm, yes, tha... that’s me. Thank you... err...” he stammered. He couldn’t stop shaking all of a sudden, and his leg gave a painful throb. He gave it a quick look to find that blood had started soaking through his makeshift bandage, then returned his gaze to the man before him. Lord Ebi had followed his glance and was looking down at Qrow’s leg, a strange expression on his face. Qrow felt slightly self conscious about his appearance and shuffled on his feel slightly. “I’m sorry... my Lord, is it?” he said. “It’s nothing.” Lord Ebi tore his eyes away from Qrow’s leg and back at his face. Qrow was unsettled by the intensity of the look. “Really, I’m...it’s fine…”

Lord Ebi seemed to come back to himself with a start and smiled again at Qrow. It was a nice smile Qrow thought to himself, warm and inviting. He slowly felt himself smiling back and suddenly he felt like nothing else mattered as long as he kept looking into those eyes. Not his bleeding leg, not his wet clothes, not even his qualms could stop the sense of serene calmness as he stared wordlessly. If only he could stay gazing a little longer, he thought, just a little closer…

A loud clattering of pans from deep within the house broke the spell and Qrow jolted. Somehow he’d ended up on the carpet again, right in front of Lord Ebi, without even realising he’d moved. He quickly retreated, confusion crossing his face as all feeling returned and he shook with a sudden coldness. Looking away, he didn’t understand how he could have forgotten the state he was in. He glanced back up at the other man, only to find him gone. He gaped around in shock before seeing Lord Ebi over by the door the older gentleman has gone through. “How the…?” Qrow hadn’t even heard him move, didn’t even feel him brush past. He was suddenly gone and there again, giving Qrow a look that meant he should follow.

Grabbing his suitcase and coat from by the front door, Qrow followed, feeling puzzled. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something bizarre had happened and it had left him even more drained than before. He rubbed at his neck, which felt tender suddenly and was surprised to find blood on his fingers. _Just his luck_ , he thought, _another scratch from the tree_ , though he’d not noticed it before. He grasped a corner of his coat and used it to wipe the blood away. He’d really need a new coat before long, Qrow grumbled to himself as he went through the door. 

The door led into a small dark passageway, with further openings leading off ahead and to the right. Light spilled into the hallway from half way along so he made his way towards it. The warmth hit him as soon as he crossed the threshold, and he found himself in a kitchen, a fire blazing away in the grate. He closed his eyes and just breathed, losing himself in the sensation of dry heat. When he opened his eyes again, he spotted his new patron and the older man from before standing at a table talking quietly. Qrow couldn’t make out what they were saying, it felt like they were talking from far away as his leg suddenly throbbed and his head spun. Both men turned to look at him as he tipped sideways into the doorframe, dropping his belongings and grabbing the frame to steady himself. Hands gently grasped his elbows and pulled him upright. Qrow looked up to see Lord Ebi holding him carefully as he was guided to a seat at the table. 

“Please sit, you’re very tired,” the Lord said softly, “Eat and rest, I shall see you tomorrow when you’re feeling better.” He turned to the shorter man and gave him a look. “Take care of him.” With that, Lord Ebi strode towards the door, pausing only to glance back at Qrow, who stared at him in bewilderment. Then he was gone, and Qrow seemed to breathe easier. The clock in the hallway started ringing again, signalling it was 9 o’clock.

He jumped as a bowl of hot soup was placed in front of him along with a plate of bread and a mug of steaming tea. “Thank you,” he mumbled and looked upwards, meeting light brown eyes that softened slightly when they spied the drying blood on his neck. He kicked off his shoes at the man's insistence, and watched as they were put in front of the grate. Qrow turned back to the food as his stomach gave a rumble, and started spooning it up, taking care not to scold his tongue. He let out a faint moan at the taste, it was delicious, and he greedily took a slice of bread to mop up every last remnant. The tea was slightly too sweet for his tastes, but it was warming and he knew that he needed the sugar. It didn’t take him long to finish, he’d been hungry even before setting out that morning, the whiskey he’d been sipping had kept the worst of the hunger at bay.

All the while Qrow had been focused on eating, the other man had been collecting items from the spotless white cupboards that lined the walls. Now that all the food had been devoured, he took the crockery away and replaced them with his haul of hot water, cotton wool balls, ointment and bandages. He looked at Qrow, who peered back with glazed eyes. He was oh so tired, why couldn’t he just show him where to sleep. “Let’s take a look shall we. Neck first,” the portly man ordered, and Qrow groaned. 

“I can take care of myself,” he replied, dipping a cotton wool ball into the water. Qrow didn’t like to rely on anyone else, it only led to bad things in his experience. He was grateful for the meal, but he couldn’t quite forget his welcome at the door. Those red eyes, not unlike his, and the disdain they had conveyed. Qrow pointedly went for his leg first, just to be antagonistic, but his head swam again as he leant over and he had to quickly grab the table to stop himself falling out his chair. He groaned and placed his head down on his arms, feeling nauseous and he retched slightly. “Urgh.”

“Here, you are in no fit state,” his companion said, and took the cotton wool from Qrow’s hand. He gently cleaned the blood away from his scratched neck, before untying the stained improvised bandage and rolling the trouser leg up to examine the wound. Qrow was too far gone to care anymore, trying to keep his food down and focusing on not passing out. He hissed as stinging ointment was applied and the other man pressed hard while he wrapped a clean bandage around his torn lower leg. Qrow only lifted his head when water and medicine were offered. He swallowed them slowly, trying not to upset his stomach again. The heat in the kitchen given off by the fire had helped to partially dry his clothes, but they still felt uncomfortable. He didn’t want to see the state of his other clothes in his suitcase. 

When he felt like the nausea had abated enough, Qrow slowly stood up and headed to the door. The other man waited for him in the passageway, Qrow’s suitcase and coat in hand, then led him further away from the main hall. Passing through several corridors, Qrow took no mind of them, just wishing for a bed. There was no sign of Lord Ebi, and apart from the ticking of the clocks and the rain and wind at the windows, the house was silent. After several flights of bare wooden stairs they arrived in a long corridor on the top floor, a single light aglow. His guide stopped outside one door and pushed it open to reveal a decent sized room. Clicking the lightswitch, Qrow saw what would have originally contained two single beds and double the furniture, was now home to a single good sized double bed and a clean wooden chest of drawers. A small sink and towel rail hung on the wall below the window on the left, and an armchair stood proudly in the closest right hand corner next to an empty bookcase. 

“Goodnight Mr Branwen,” the other man said sleepily, yawning widely. “The bathroom is just opposite. We’ll have some spare clothes for you in the morning.” A hand rubbed at tired lavender eyes and he smiled at Qrow. “All will be better in the morrow,” and he placed Qrow’s suitcase on the chest of drawers before retreating back into the hall, closing the door softly behind him.

Qrow didn’t quite know what to think of the day's events. He was confused and tired, still cold and slightly light headed. He couldn’t think why he was feeling this way, it had only been a bit of wind and rain. His head hurt just trying to process it. Looking longingly at the bed, he started pulling off his filthy clothes and dumped them by the sink before padding out to the bathroom. When he returned, Qrow tried to find a pair of underwear in his case that wasn’t too dirty. The majority of his clothes were covered in mud and leaves, but hadn’t the older man said something about new clothes? He desperately needed new ones anyway, he thought as he pulled back the sheets of the bed and climbed in. They were soft and he snuggled deep into them, closing his eyes. He hadn't slept in a real bed for a long time, and a strong yawn overcame him as he sleepily reached to pull the ceiling cord at his side. 

Outside in the dark, the storm showed no signs of stopping. It blew through the trees, making them sway and brush against the bricks of the house. Leaves and twigs littered the ground underneath them and no creatures dared venture out of their warm shelters. A pair of bright green eyes looked up at the house from under a tree, fixed on a window on the top floor. As the light there went out, Clover Ebi swallowed a lump in his throat and turned away. The rain bounced away from him before it landed, and the strong wind barely made his cloak flutter. He walked from the house towards the path, giving himself a little shake. This was going to be harder than he thought. Closing his eyes, he paused as he thought back to their meeting, to his new guest standing tall at the window, black hair disheveled and clothes clinging to his lithe frame. A grin spread across Clover’s face when he remembered how he’d made the man jump with the slightest of effort. Oh, how he was going to have fun with his twitchy new companion.

The smile turned to a grimace at how close he’d been to forgetting himself and a groan escaped his lips. When he’d seen the blood at Qrow’s leg, he couldn’t help it and had pulled the man in, eyes locked in the trance. He’d even nicked the man’s throat when he reached for him… Clover swayed on the spot and grabbed his head with his hands, trying to shake the thirst away. He was grateful that the daze had been broken before he’d done something he really regretted, the poor man didn’t deserve that, he looked like he’d been to hell and back already. Just the trance had taken something from the man, he could see it in the way Qrow had almost fainted afterwards. _No_ , Clover thought, he was going to stay strong and not give in, the other man wasn't here for _that_. He turned and glanced in the direction of the house, finding that he was looking forward to their time together anyway, Qrow had been quite handsome after all. Grinning to himself, Clover continued his walk away from the house and was lost to the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. This is my first work for over a decade, so I hope it wasn't filled with too many clichés! The inspiration for this story came from several different places, including the artwork above (check out their other awesome work!). The setting is similar to Matlock Bath in Derbyshire.


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